


Winter Song

by catrinwrites



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, sadboy Jamie is my favorite sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:08:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28272129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catrinwrites/pseuds/catrinwrites
Summary: This is my winter songDecember never felt so wrong‘Cause you’re not where you belongInside my armsIt had been three years, eight months, and twelve days since he had seen her.Since he had heard her laugh, basked in the warmth of her smile..Since he had broken her heart.
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 146
Kudos: 192





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Blame all the beautiful renditions of Winter Song (esp the Leslie Odom Jr versions)
> 
> Unbeta’d 🤷🏻♀️

It had been three years, eight months, and twelve days since he had seen her.

Since he had heard her laugh, basked in the warmth of her smile..

Since he had broken her heart.

He hadn’t meant to — Christ, the last thing Jamie Fraser had ever wanted to do was hurt Claire. 

The love of his life.

And yet — he had. 

Not initially — initially, it was as close to perfect as anything he’d ever experienced. Meeting her that summer night; instantly falling for the fierce, smart, beautiful woman before him. Spending every moment he could with her, learning everything about her. He felt that this must be what it is to have a soulmate, to have an other half. Moving in was a natural step, and the ring tucked carefully away in the back of a drawer was a promise of what was to come next.

But then, as tends to happen — all at once, life intervened.

A frantic call from his sister, saying that their Da had had a stroke and it didn’t look good — he needed to come back north, _come home, as soon as he could._

Claire offered to come, offered to give up shifts, help him. 

_But she was so close to a promotion —_

With a tight smile, he told her to stay; he just had to go, had to get to the airport — 

While they deliberated, his father didn’t make it. 

She was able to get time off to be there with him at the funeral. 

And then it was okay. Or if not, precisely, _okay_ , 

But as work picked up; as she rose to the prominence, to the power she had always deserved.... 

How could it not remind him? 

And one night, so late it was almost early, when she returned from the hospital... 

He’d been so very, very drunk. 

And she’d come home — exhausted, as usual, but with the glow from a job well done — 

He couldn’t hold it back. 

The hurt, the frustration, the loneliness. 

And they fought. 

He wasn’t innocent in all of it, of course — he knew that. Had known that then, but after the loss of his father, the distance between them — the gulf he didn’t know how to cross — was yet another devastation. 

He hadn’t known how to ask for help in a way that she would hear. 

_“So do you want to go?”_ she’d asked; her eyes glistening with tears she wouldn’t allow to fall. 

In the worst mistake of his life, he’d said yes. 

And since then — he was, truly, alone. 

Sitting by his window, a dram of whisky in hand, he watched the snow fall. 

_*****_

It has been three years, eight months, and twelve days they she’d been without a heart. 

“You’ll move on!” Her friends said. “You’re such a catch, babe, you’ll find someone better in no time.” 

And she had tried. 

She has honest to god done all of the things you’re supposed to — the mixers, the god forsaken dating apps, the setups from well meaning friends. 

But — it had become so painfully, unbearably clear — for Claire Beauchamp, it would have to be Jamie or no one at all. 

She’d thought about calling him. So many times, she’d scrolled to his number in her mobile, her finger hovering over the “call” button. 

Once, she’d actually done it. 

But the automated message — _“the number you have tried to reach is no longer in use”_ — had been a harsh, cruel reminder of what she had lost. 

She had been so stupid, so selfish. She’d imagined it thousands of times — leaving the hospital immediately upon his frantic call, booking the flight for both of them, letting the love of her life see his father one last time before he was gone. 

Before that — taking more time for him... for them. 

Every time he told her about Lallybroch, how much she would love it... how much he would love to be there with her, it was never a good _time_. There was always something else going on, and she always promised that she would be there with him soon, but not now. 

The first time she saw Brian Fraser in person, it was in a casket. 

_“A job can’t roll over in the morning and tell you it doesn’t love you anymore.”_

Before Jamie, she didn’t believe there was a way that love could feel more secure than her own ability to take care of herself. She’d been alone so long, she — 

It didn’t matter anymore. 

He was gone. She would have to, somehow, resign herself to the idea that she would never be whole again. 

She let herself into the quaint airBnB she had rented in Inverness; pathetic as it may have been for her to return to Scotland that Christmas, the ache in her heart, knowing she was closer to _him..._ it was better than feeling nothing at all. 

Maybe she’d drive to the coast, take a stroll on the beach later. It might do her some good. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still unbetad. I’ll probably go back through for spelling/grammar/etc later. 
> 
> Also probably now 3, maybe 4 chapters in this little guy.

A whole week off, and her choice to spend it in the Highlands was beginning to feel like chasing a ghost.

Everywhere she went, he was there — a spectral being, following her every move. The Ghost of Christmas Past and of Christmas Never to Come, she thought at one point.

To be haunted by someone who was alive was a novel experience, she thought to herself over a gin and tonic one night.

She saw him in her dreams, too — occasionally, so real that she would reach out for him in the night. The empty space on the bed beside her — always somehow even colder than she thought it would be a stark reminder.

Three years, eight months, fourteen days.

It was somehow even harder now.

*****

Something about the Christmas season always made him ache. 

Of course, missing the family members that could no longer join them was painful, even as he was surrounded by his sister and her family. 

Even now, it was about missing her. Somehow, it had gotten so much worse over the past few days — the ache more palpable, more urgent. 

“Ye need to see a therapist, brother,” Jenny had said after the sixth time she’d asked him a question. “Get yer head on straight again.”

It was probably true — he had seen one, for a while, after his father’s death. 

After he lost Claire, he stopped. He couldn’t go there —

A part of him thought that if he processed it, processed losing her, she would, like his parents, be really, truly gone.

He would rather live his life with half a heart. 

“Will ye just go to the market in Inverness, then?” Jenny had sighed. “Ye can take wee Jamie if ye wish; but ye might as well be doing something useful.”

“Fine then,” he’d said, and crouched down to grin at his wee nephew. Blunt as she was, Jenny did know him well enough to realize that spending time with the lad would be the best distraction for him. “Are ye ready to go on an adventure, then?”

*****

Claire knew she should have been more prepared; it was so unlike her to forget basic toiletries and supplies for a trip.

She didn’t know where her head was lately—

That wasn’t accurate. She knew exactly where it was. It was why she was here, after all, wasn’t it? 

She sighed, glanced at the sky as she walked out to her rental car.

A storm was rolling in. The bleakness suited her mood, she supposed.

“You’re pathetic, Beauchamp,” she muttered to herself as she threw the car into gear. 

And maybe she was — but somehow, even as she ached, as she had for the past several years, somehow, _today_ , there was something else under the surface, too. A new sensation, one that she couldn’t quite name yet… a change, somehow. Her heart fluttered slightly in her chest as she set forth.

She hummed along to the radio as she drove to Tesco. 

The car park was insanely crowded, of course — for those who weren’t celebrating alone, all manner of cooking and festivities demanded preparation. 

Even so, she was able to grab a basket and quickly load up on the items she needed — until a familiar voice in the next aisle made her gasp.

_”Nae, yer mam will have my head if I bring ye back all loaded up wi’ sweets.”_

Claire ran her hand over her face, trembling.

A Scottish accent was obviously not a rarity here; even one with that same timbre and intonation she had fallen in love with. And yet…

She peered around the aisle, felt her heart shatter all over again.

Even in profile, she knew. It was him. 

With a little boy — his son?

She panicked, tried to turn back, and collided with another shopper. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry —“ she began.

“Feckin’ Sassenach,” the man grunted at her. The term — which she had never heard with anything less than affection from Jamie — reminded her of how much she needed to get out of there. Right then.

She gestured apologetically once more, began to back up and away.

And of course — because the universe’s sense of humor wasn’t cruel enough —

_“”Claire?”_

Fuck.

She turned back in his general direction, eyes closed until the very last moment. 

At last, she opened them, took him in.

She wanted to cry. 

He was as beautiful as ever — his hair was longer, shaggier; it suited him. He wore the same worn jacket he’d loved so much those years ago, similarly styled clothing —

But as much as he looked like he’d walked right out of her past, the child in the trolley was full evidence that time, space, and their history separated them even more than she could have imagined.

“Hi,” she breathed, forcing herself to smile. He deserved as much, even though all she wanted to do was break down. 

“Hi,” he replied. 

*****

Wee Jamie had inherited the Fraser stubbornness.

A (relatively) quick trip into Inverness had become anything but once they set foot in the shop, and Jamie had begun to realize that Jenny’s suggestion was not for his mental health, but rather her own.

Every aisle had some new and fascinating thing that wee Jamie wanted; Jamie estimated he’d said the word “no” more times in that brief trip than he had in his entire life up until that point.

Near the end of the shopping list, wee Jamie had discovered some new kind of sweets that he desperately needed, and Jamie was desperate to fight off the impending meltdown. “Nae, yer mam will have my head if I bring ye back all loaded up wi’ sweets, mac peathar,” he’s soothed…

And then, a commotion that had stopped his heart, caused everything to go in slow motion.

It wasn’t uncommon at this time of year for a wee stramash or two to occur at the store (another reason Jenny had sent Jamie — she wouldn’t have been able to hold her tongue with rude shoppers, and the fallout of whatever fight she started was nobody’s idea of a good Christmas), and Jamie was just distracted enough that he almost didn’t hear the apology.

A Sassenach, as the victim of the accidental run in had pointed out.

And, without even looking up, Jamie knew exactly which Sassenach it was. 

The answer to his prayers.

“Claire?”

Her eyes were closed; it afforded him a chance to look at her, take her in, without seeming rude.

She was still stunning; Christ, though, she was thin. Tiny, angular, birdlike joints showed through her coat, and his heart twisted. She never had been good at taking care of herself —

“Hi,” she breathed, eyes finally open, and it was all he could do to not run to her. Her smile was so sad… Christ.

And while he could have said any number of things to her, wanted to…

He simply echoed her quiet, “hi.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is never a beta; I’ll fix errors eventually.

“Um,” Claire said, unable to drag her eyes away from Jamie for a second. To see him here, in front of her, like this, after all this time... “How have you been?”

“Och, uh, I’ve been well. And… and you?” He asked, cautiously taking a step closer.

Claire relished in it; even if he was married, even if this was his son — evidence of a life lived without her — she was so happy just to see him, to know he was well…

And yet. The ache was still there. 

“Ah, I’m… I’m well too... thank you,” she said softly. And, not knowing how else to broach the topic, she continued, “is this, um, your…”

Jamie looked confused for a moment, then at the boy, then back at her. He let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Oh! This is my nephew, wee Jamie.” His blush extended to the very tips of his ears, she couldn’t help but notice, as the relief washed through her. 

_But he’s still not yours._

“Well, hullo, wee Jamie,” Claire said with a smile. Wee Jamie, for his part, looked at her inquisitively and continued examining the shelves — no doubt seeking out a new item for which he might beg. 

“So, what brings ye up this way…?” Jamie asked. He had moved closer to her still, and while Claire knew full well that it was to avoid incurring the wrath of the overly aggressive shoppers who were currently zooming about them, the proximity was still overwhelming.

“Just… just a change of scenery for the holidays, I suppose,” Claire said, knowing full well how pathetic it sounded as she was speaking. Perhaps proving to him that she was the selfish monster he had thought her to be those years ago — what other kind of person would willingly be alone for the holidays?

He nodded. “Aye, I see… and… are ye here wi’...”

Here it is.

“I came by myself,” she said softly, unable to meet his eye. 

He heaved a sigh that, if she hadn’t known better, would have seemed to indicate relief. “I’m— I’m here wi’ my sister’s family, myself… up at—“

“Lallybroch, right,” Claire all but whispered. 

“Aye, it’s no’ far from here,” Jamie said. He shifted his hands to his pockets, rocked back on his heels. 

This was it, Claire thought. The moment where her actions would push him away again. She could never find the time to take off to come here before, and now here she was, intruding on his space, during a holiday no less. Could she have made a worse choice?

But he didn’t leave. “I…” he licked his lips, paused. “I’d like to mebbe… catch up sometime, Claire. I mean, while you’re up here, if ye dinna have other plans—“

Claire let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “I would like that, Jamie.”

“Truly?”

“Yes. Truly.”

******

His heart rate didn’t slow down until well after she walked away, the number to her mobile added to his contacts via trembling fingers. 

It hadn’t changed since back then, and while he discovered he still knew it by heart, the way it was once again in his phone specifically because _she_ had provided it… it was a lot. His phone felt heavier in his hand just for the new information it carried. 

Their conversation had been a rollercoaster of emotions: disbelief, hope, fear… all felt in equal measure by him, and, he somewhat suspected, by Claire. She’d grown better at hiding her emotions over the years, but he found could still read her as though no time had passed at all.

And yet, it obviously had.

He found he was also in equal parts relieved and saddened by the fact that she was here alone — part of him experiencing something that he didn’t want to name, didn’t want to give weight to, at the news… but at the same time, he ached for her. She had spent so much of her life so alone, and he knew deep in his heart that it wasn’t what she deserved. She deserved to be loved, to be cherished… to feel safe, to have a home. 

But she was here, now — the bitter irony didn’t escape him — and he was left wrestling with what, exactly, to do with that. 

Vague plans — ones that he didn’t know if she actually meant to keep — had been made, and to be honest, he didn’t know how he felt about it, how _to_ feel. He felt ripped open by seeing her; he also felt more alive than he had in years. As though he has been experiencing the world in muted greys and she had brought his world back into color. 

But the fact remained — _he had left her._ He had hurt her, had given up on them, their life together; he was the one who had walked out. What must she think…?

So distracted was he as he continued his shopping, checked out, and bundled wee Jamie back up for the walk into the car park, that he barely noticed the extent to which the snow had begun to fall. 

Heavy, thick flakes caught on his shoulders, in his hair. The roads were going to be terrible, maybe even nearly impossible if he didn’t get going soon.

“Ifrinn,” he muttered, realizing too late that wee Jamie had almost _definitely_ heard it. He’d deal with that — and Jenny’s wrath for potentially teaching her son to swear — at another time.

Settling his nephew into his car seat, he set to loading up his groceries, finding himself absolutely haunted by a pair of beautiful golden eyes. 

*****

After they said their goodbyes and she walked away, Claire instinctively felt her pulse at her neck. It was in fact still there — though much, much too fast. 

He had wanted to see her again. 

Probably.

It didn’t mean anything, of course — he was unfailingly polite; she didn’t think he would ghost her after taking her number again, but she also couldn’t blame him if that was the case. 

Seeing him again — 

She didn’t know what to make of it. It was, she supposed, what she had _wanted_ on some subconscious level by choosing to come up here; it was hardly like she had just chosen a spot on the map at random.

But to see him, live and in the flesh… to be reminded of what they had, and what had been thrown away… it was so much more than she had realized, so much heavier than she could have possibly imagined.

The girl at the till had to tell her her total four times before Claire pulled the correct amount out of her purse; she was thankful she didn’t have far to drive, so distracted was she by the events in the store.

As she stepped outside, she grew even more grateful that she didn’t have far to go — the storm she’d noticed on her way in was in full force, dumping thick, fluffy snow all over the car park. It would be a slog to get back to her rental, but it wasn’t like she had to drive all the way out to—

_Lallybroch. Jamie._

She hoped he would make it okay; hoped that the roads out in the country wouldn’t be so bad that he got stuck or worse. 

Rushing out to her rental car, she didn’t immediately notice the truck parked next to her, its driver feverishly refreshing his web browser on his phone, trying to find if he would be able to transport himself and his nephew home safely.

Claire had just turned the keys in the ignition, the weather report on the radio warning residents of Inverness of the scale of the storm, when she happened to look up and to her right.

Gold met blue, and before she knew what she was doing, she rolled down her window.

“Are you going to be able to make it home okay?”

He grimaced. “I dinna ken; it sounds pretty bad, but we’ll try.”

“Would you…” she swallowed, her throat suddenly drier than it had been in her entire life. “Would you like to wait it out at my rental?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so the angst gives way to a straight up Hallmark trope because I am actually secretly incredibly basic. Ah Well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing except typeos (as usual, I’ll go back and fix later, etc etc)

“You’re waiting out the storm wi’ _WHO?”_

Jamie cringed, pulling his mobile away from his ear slightly. He had called Jenny to, primarily, inform her that her son was safe and that they would be home rather later than expected… he had felt disingenuous about simply saying he would be with a “friend” in town, but hearing Jenny’s reaction to the idea that he would be with Claire…

He kind of wished he had lied.

Not that he was ashamed of spending time with her — far from it, in fact — it just felt like something too _private_ to let someone like his sister in on. Yet.

Even so, he fielded her demands and soothed her, well, meltdown as well as he could; after all, would she prefer that he try to drive home through the drifts and risk going off the road with the temperature dropping and no way of letting her know?

Her eventual acquiesce — followed by a stern “but dinna think we’re done wi’ this, Jamie Fraser” — was a godsend. 

Driving insanely slowly behind Claire’s wee car through the still falling snow had given him time to think — and to realize, of course, exactly how ill prepared he was to spend time with her, particularly when there was no set end time. He could hardly have “just forgotten” an appointment he held when they were snowed in together; he estimated at least a couple hours until the storm stopped, and longer still until the roads were passable. 

So he would be alone with Claire, for the first time since their fight.

He had seen her after he walked out, of course; though she was conveniently gone when he retrieved most of his things…

There was that one final trip.

A few odds and ends were all that remained— a ring that he couldn’t bring himself to pawn (and that he secretly almost kind of hoped she had seen: one last opportunity to throw him a life preserver, or maybe to grab one of her own), a few last books and vinyls from their shared collection — and they all fit into one small box. 

Her best friend, Gillian — a tall, fair, kind of terrifying red headed woman — had been there that final day; to protect Claire from him, to force her to stay strong, he imagined wearily. 

Even so, he couldn’t help but stop in the doorway, turn and choke out over one shoulder —

_“I am sorry, Claire,”_

And then down the stairs and out of her life. 

And now, somehow, against all odds, he was seeing her again. 

Spending time with her… 

Talking it through with her, maybe. 

And — 

_Loving her._ Still. 

He knew it, couldn’t deny it. Was afraid that he didn’t want to. 

_He was afraid of a lot of things, to be honest._

_*****_

Claire flexed her fingers against the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. It would be fine. 

Her _insanely_ impulsive request, met almost instantly with a noticeably shaky “aye, yeah, if we could,” had meant that she’d hastily given him the address and rolled her window back up before she could lose her nerve. 

Or come to her senses. 

She hadn’t thought he’d say yes — hadn’t thought he’d want to spend time with her, or, mainly, that he didn’t have someone else in town who might be able to help him. 

But apparently not, and so they were in their respective vehicles, crawling at a snail's pace back to her rental. 

She was grateful that it was a nice sized place, and that she hadn’t just rented a room. There was enough room for some distance between them if this didn’t go well. 

_Fuck_ , she wanted this to go well. 

The dull ache in her chest for the past three years shifting into directly, acutely, missing him had been an odd feeling; from the sense of resigned absence to a new and sharper sensation, that of stretching towards something that’s only just out of reach. 

He probably wasn’t, of course. Within reach, that is... Even though, if she was honest with herself, she desperately wanted him to be. 

That last day — the last time she’d seen him — was a bit of a blur; Gillian had seen to a state of absolute, blackout inebriation that night, and Claire only really remembered pieces of that day. 

Except one thing — the heartbreak in his voice when he had said he was sorry, right before he walked out of her life. 

That had stayed burned into her memory, even all those years later. 

Claire bit her lip, glanced quickly in the rear view. 

He was turned slightly towards where she knew his nephew to be in the back seat, saying something. The little boy absolutely adored him; that much was clear. 

It was… Jenny’s son? 

— right, Jamie’s sister was named Jenny. That must be his mother; he must have been born not too long after the breakup, Claire realized… with time to think about it, her initial fear that he was Jamie’s wasn’t entirely possible. 

_Thank god._

Claire couldn’t help but wonder what other changes had occurred in Jamie’s life over the last few years. 

***** 

They pulled up the drive in front of Claire’s airBnB; Jamie let out a big exhale as he parked. 

_No turning back now._

“Do you need any help with anything?” Claire called. She’d done considerably less damage at Tesco — she only held one small bag, as opposed to the several Jamie had left with. 

“If I can put these in your fridge, I would appreciate it,” Jamie called, gesturing to his bags. “Some of this shouldna freeze, which I’m worried it’ll do if I leave it out here.” 

“That’s fine,” Claire replied. “Um. Do you want me to take wee Jamie…?” 

“Aye, yeah, if ye can get him in the house…” Jamie replied, moving to get his nephew from his car seat and bundle him up again. 

Claire was at his side before he knew it, and she gently reached out to take the lad from him. 

“Thank ye,” Jamie murmured. 

__To see her with a bairn…_ _

“It’s no problem,” Claire replied. She turned to wee Jamie. “Are you ready to go inside?” She asked him, so sweetly it broke Jamie’s heart. 

The lad nodded, and Claire took him inside, leaving the door open for Jamie as she went. 

Jamie watched until he couldn’t see her anymore. 

He realized, fully, in that moment, that perhaps this: escaping the storm with her, and seeing just a wee glimpse of what could have been… 

Might it not be a sign for what still could be? His own personal Christmas Carol in a way. 

He wasn’t sure — 

But he did believe in miracles, and second chances. 

_Maybe this was a bit of both._

***** 

Claire set to slipping wee Jamie out of his puffy coat as soon as she could; her purchases, left on the kitchen counter to be dealt with later. 

The boy was fairly quiet, but observant; occasionally he glanced in the direction from whence they’d come, but otherwise, he seemed to be a fairly trusting little thing. 

“Maybe we’ll ask your uncle if you can have a bit of hot chocolate when he gets in,” Claire told the boy as she balanced him on her hip. 

“Only if the uncle gets some as well,” Jamie replied, smiling shyly as he made his way into the kitchen. 

His expression as he gazed at her made Claire blush. 

“That’s only fair, I suppose,” she said, handing his nephew back to him. 

_This man was going to be the death of her._

Small talk was a blissful distraction as she set to preparing three cups of hot chocolate — learned that he was a semester away from _finally_ completing his Ph.D — 

“I always knew you’d get it,” she’d told him smugly — 

And he learned about her work as a surgeon, overseeing the trauma decision at the Royal Infirmary. 

With a brief pause to put Wee Jamie down for a nap, they danced carefully around the elephant in the room; for a time, they seemed to successfully play at being just old friends catching up. 

The old chemistry was mostly back: talking, teasing, _flirting_ a bit... 

Claire’s heart almost stopped aching. 

And then Jamie referenced his Da. 

It was a casual thing; a reference to a Hogamany tradition. 

But it was enough. 

***** 

Jamie could tell the exact moment that Claire shut down. 

He’d explained a particular role that his father had taken on for Hogamany as he’d grown up— 

And had said that it was his role, now. 

He hadn’t meant anything by it, hadn’t wanted to bring up that particular part of their past... 

And he saw her retreat; guilt flashing across her expression as she did. 

“Excuse me,” she said, and she walked into the living room. 

She stared out the window as he approached her. 

“I’m sorry, Claire,” he said softly. 

“Why are you the one apologizing?” 

“I…” he started. Swallowed, paused. How to begin? 

“It’s my bloody fault,” she continued, breaking the silence. “I should be apologizing to you — I was so _selfish_....” 

Her shoulders began to shake, and not knowing what else to do (and also knowing he was possibly about to make a colossal mistake), he softly, as gently as if she was made of glass, rested his hands on her arms, rubbing his hands up and down. 

“Claire, dinna blame yourself,” he murmured soothingly, his heart racing as he spoke. 

_To touch her again —_

And she didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. 

She turned to face him, wiping tears away as she did. “How can you not blame me?” 

“Because I’m at fault, too.” 

“But your dad—“ she sniffed. 

“Ye didna ken; none of us did, Claire… no one kent how quickly he’d go.” Reaching up with a trembling hand, he wiped away a tear she’d missed. 

_This was it._

He drew a deep breath, continued. “And it didna have to ruin us — I… I said more than I meant. Back then. I shouldna have spoken to ye so, shouldna have left. I was just… so, so hurt, and lonely, and —“ it was his turn, then, to begin to weep. 

“I’m so sorry, Jamie,” Claire breathed; she held onto him for dear life, his heart racing under her cheek as he wrapped his arms around her. “So, so sorry.” 

“Can ye ever forgive me, Claire?” 

And there it was. 

If anyone had told Claire what would happen when she’d arrived again in the Highlands, she would probably have laughed incredulously in their face — 

But now that it was happening — 

Feeling her heart, healing almost in real time — 

It felt like the most natural thing in the world. 

“Forgiven,” she said, looking up at him with tear filled eyes. “And… me? Can you ever forgive me, Jamie?” 

“There’s nothing to forgive,” he murmured. “Truly, Claire.” 

She leaned against him, taking in everything that was so quintessentially _Jamie_ — everything she never thought she would get to hold again. 

Impossibly gently, he kissed the top of her head. “I missed you so much,” he whispered. 

“I never stopped missing you,” she replied. 

And despite the absolute chaos that his Christmas Eve has become — his arms around her, both of them gently illuminated by the lights twinkling on the Christmas tree, he felt at home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well anyway, this fic keeps growing....
> 
> For sure there will be one more chapter/an epilogue, probably posted sometime tomorrow. ❤️


End file.
